


His Beat

by Pchan2017



Series: The MayWeather Element. [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game), underswap
Genre: a work in progress, more tags to be added as needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 16:48:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11764167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pchan2017/pseuds/Pchan2017
Summary: Underswap Papy and his part in the series. Music enters his life, but how much stays the same and how much changes? Eh I suck at summaries.





	His Beat

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Mayweather Experiment, You may read each of the 'His ... ' In whatever order you wish, at least for now. I will put a note in the main work of the series if there is an order to read things.

Keeping up with Sans was never an easy task in the least. The constant flow of energy which seemed to surround his older, yet smaller brother, must have had an endless supply. From dawn until late within the evening, his awesome bro would keep him on his toes. Whether it was with their usual daily routine of waking up Papyrus, fixing breakfast, waking up Papyrus again, cleaning the house, waking up Papyrus on the stairs, getting ready for work, waking up Papyrus and yelling at him about his socks, shoving his brother out the door and making sure he made it to his sentry station on time, heading off to check his puzzles, returning to wake up Papyrus yet again, then off to training.. in which Papy could get a few hours not so well deserved sleep, be woken up again and scolded with all the love in the world for his lazy habits, and then Sans was off again, tending to his various other tasks.. usually paroling for humans, and from there Papyrus would make his way to his second job, the hotcat stand. Honestly, his first half of the day rarely needed his attention, no humans were due to show up any time soon, he would get that nagging sensation when it was time, and so sentry work was just glorified nap time.. the rest of the day? To annoy Sans. Hey, a skeleton has to get some fun out of life, doesn't he?

After a few hours at his stand, or till his supply ran out, then it was his personal time.. he would have a good three hours before Sans would come looking for him back at his sentry station. In the beginning, this was prime time to stop off at Muffets, shamelessly flirt his way to a free bottle of honey and some food.. or catch a smoke then a nap behind his station.. but not as of late. 

It had been a few months since he found the discarded oddity on his way home.. who would leave such a strange contraption just laying on the ground? He had kicked it lazily.. not sure what to make of it. It was tall when stood on one end.. reaching near his skinny hips.. hollow on the inside, made of wood? Yeah, wood.. at one time a tanned tarp had been over the mouth of the ..whatever it was, but through either misuse or plan neglect.. the tarp had torn through, leaving pale tan tatters hanging down within the strange thing.

It did not take long, once he replaced the tarp with some webbing he bribed out of Muffet, backing that with the remaining leather till it was perfect. He wasn't sure if it sounded like how it was suppose to, but he liked what he had created.. clearly, it was a drum. An odd one, not one he had seen nor heard in any of Napstaton's collections.. and he liked it that way. It was unique, different, odd.. a great deal like his own soul. 

Hiding the drum hadn't been his first priority, but the more he thought on it, the less he really wanted to reveal it to his energetic brother right away. He loved Sans, no lie there, but he really did not need another reason for his brother to scold him for wasting time.. it could get a bit tiresome. And so, in the shed out back of their home, hidden behind some outdated decorations, some of his old research equipment, and a few boxes of their belongings from childhood which Sans would not part with.. for sentimental reasons, he tucked away the drum. The music he was learning to create was muffled by all the clutter in the shed, and he could steal away during the day when Sans was training, to practice. At first it was just for fun, and relaxing.. but gradually he discovered that he could channel so much into the simple item.

It had begun one trying day, he had awoken from yet another nightmare, the same nightmare. Always the same. His failures, his brief victories, the endless blood upon his hands.. upon that child's hands. He had awoken in a cold sweat, the magic seeping through the pores of his bones staining his bedding and clothing a dull, musty orange. Not wishing to disturb Sans, he had grabbed a 'fresh' hoodie and shorts and in a brief moment, ported himself to secluded location within the woods near their home.. he was grateful for this spot.. here he disrobed, used the ice and snow to cool the terror from his bones as well as remove the sweat, and change into 'fresh' clothing. He stashed the soiled clothing away in a hollow tree, he would return later to deal with them.. but for now he had to clear his head.. using the shower at home would have awoken Sans, and he was just not in the mood to deal with questions about his nightmare.. no, he had learn the hard way, many a reset ago.. that gentle Sans could not handle the truth when it was presented to him. 

How was he suppose to expect Sans to take it? Hey bro, umm so you died.. a lot. No, unacceptable. Sans had been a basket case for weeks after he had told him.. and for once, Papy had *almost* been glad to see the kid. He still felt really rotten about that.. watching his brother die, well it always hurt, but that time he had carried a mix of guilt and relief.. Sans would not remember what he had been told, and yet.. Papy had wanted Sans to forget, sadly this was the only way it could happen.

After that fiasco, he shouldered the burden alone, not revealing to Sans why he had nightmares, why he slept so much, why he was so secretive at times.. he knew all of these aspects hurt Sans, but the truth hurt so much more.. it was best just to hold it in, and watch his brother skip through life without a care in the world. He ran a hand over his aching skull and made his way back to the shed, true he could have just ported over to it, but the trek through the cold helped sooth his worries.. just a little. 

The night was the same as it always was. No monsters around to ask questions, no chatter..just the deathly stillness of the underground, as it had been before they had been banished below and formed their villages and cities. Such thoughts only added to his worries.. how was this all to end? How could he stop the kid, when he didn't even understand their methods of what they did? Why they preformed such horrible acts of violence.. and the rare times they would show kindness? Unlocking the shed, he stared at the icy cold pad lock in his hand and let it fall to the ground, creating a small thud as it hit the mushy snow, the door gave its familiar creek and groan as he opened it just wide enough for him to slip within.

Past the boxes which contained photo albums, ducking below the low hanging Christmas tree.. heh, he liked that one.. it never dried up and died like their previous ones.. a good find, in the dump. Avoiding the over turned box with broken glass ornaments, as well as the box of Sans' bottle cap collection.. he had no desire to step on those again.. eventually he made his way to his little treasure. An old box of paper work, various bits and pieces left behind by... him, had made a nice place it sit when his feet would grow tired.. but most of the time he stood.

It was on this night that he discovered that the music could carry away the weight of his worries.. at least for a little while. It had begun slow, his bony hands falling upon the thin layer of webbing and leather, the hollow sounds seemed to bounce off his bones and steal away his thoughts for a time. Gradually the tempo picked up, his hands falling faster upon the taunt surface, the sounds crafting their way into music.. music which echoed the pain and weariness he carried.. it turned to rage, hate for the human who had caused him so much suffering, disdain for the humans who had locked them away for so many years.. and hate for himself, for giving up yet again.

This became a regular thing now. When the burden of it all became too much, he would find his way here again. When the strain of dealing with Sans' energy was too heavy, his hands itched for the drum. And when his own guilt was just too much to carry alone, he turned to his music. It was not long at all, until he had found himself creating melodies within his skull, and trying to replay them upon the instrument later. He had found something he had thought lost to him, he had discovered a passion for something.. and it brought a fire back to his soul. 

Time, time was something he had plenty of. Throughout the resets and the horrors, the progress he made with his music stuck with him, it was his one consistent aspect of his life. So it was no grand surprise to him, when his hands found the pattern and rhythm he had previous thought beyond his grasp. The music was soothing, it was always soothing. Though the music would gradually change, it grew rather then abruptly revert back to what it had been before. The music followed him, when the taunt material was not beneath his touch, the music rolled about in his skull.. soon he would find himself, tapping his hand upon his knee when seated at his sentry station.. from there it was a matter of remembering the beat until he might return home.

The music haunted him, and he welcomed it. It enveloped his life, warmed his soul, and cocooned about him till he felt as if the weight of his worries were shielded away from him. At least, he had discovered a measure of peace. The beats even found their way into battle. He could hear not only his drum, but a score of them when he dove, ducked, and swerved out of the slashing attacks. The child, the red eyed demon who had disrupted his life for time beyond what he could remember.. he had discovered a way to keep his steps light, unpredictable, his pattern had changed. He no longer fought with the emptiness.. defeat the child, stay with the music, find a way to force the reset.. his brother would return, his friends would return and all would be well.

And then came the pain. Somehow, throughout his weaving and blocking, the child had figured him out. His old pattern lost, but it seemed the child had discovered his music.. he was unsure if they heard it in their head the way he did, but he knew his mistake within a breath's moment.. and that was all it took. A single moment. The flash of metal, that old familiar cold that would sweep through him.. Marrow, sticky and wet upon his bones. He gave his usual retort as he slumped against the wall.. what was it again? Going to Muffet's? He had said it so many times before, it was barely anything he honestly thought about anymore.. in the distance, he could see his brother.. arms opened, waiting for him. 

"Looks like I messed up again, Bro.."

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the flow to this might seem a little odd, I had to pause in the middle of writing this and did not get back to it for several days. There will be more chapters to each part of this series, so I hope you are enjoying it thus far and thank you for reading.


End file.
